17 Front Street
“Why are you asking?”
Gladys had her arms crossed, weight on her back foot, debating whether I deserved the information. She had seen it unfold on the front porch. I couldn’t blame her for the hesitation. For all Gladys knew, I wanted the information so I could finish the job.
“I need to talk with Matt.” Okay, a slight fib. “It’s about the scouts.”
She had me by the balls. I could have gone to Seamus or Tyler and asked for the information.
I’m surprised Mum hadn’t known. No, barging through the doors and asking Gladys for Johnny’s address was part of the process.
The moment I turned around, she’d alert the town, and I’d be surprised if we didn’t have an audience.
I didn’t want them in my business, but I needed to accept that being part of the community meant accepting the good and the bad.
“You’re not going to rough him up, are you?”
“Matt? No. I just—”
She had a glare sharp enough to cut off words.
“I’m not going to hurt him.”
I wanted to know if she took satisfaction in holding the information over my head.
If there were a single person in this town who embodied what I didn’t like, it’d be Gladys.
She knew the business of every person, every secret, and nothing was off-limits.
My boundaries were firmly drawn, and I didn’t think she’d respect a single one of them.
“He’s not a bad guy.” Not what I expected. “He’s trying to be a good dad.”
“I already assured you.” I wouldn’t plead with her.
She might have his best interests at heart, but I still found it difficult to understand.
I walked in here, determined to find out if I could withstand the suffocation of Firefly.
Barely. Already, I wanted to storm out and say good riddance, but I held my ground.
I’d do it, but that didn’t mean I had to act as if it were roses and puppy dogs.
I wanted to ask if she knew about the torment, if that had been one whisper that crossed her counter.
As we raced toward a stalemate, I wondered if anybody else in town felt the same as her?
Had Johnny turned around his life and become an upstanding citizen?
I clung to Mum’s words, wanting to believe things had changed.
It was hard to believe as I waded through the exact situation that had forced me to leave.
“Charles—”
“Charlie.”
Gladys took a deep breath. “Charlie.”
She lowered her arms, resting them on the counter next to the antique candlesticks. With each breath, I watched the defensive posture fade. Chewing her bottom lip, her head tipped to the side. While she softened, I fought to hold the anger in the pit of my stomach.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
I tried to analyze the trap. Picking apart the question, I tried to figure out if she wanted gossip. Would she share my disdain? How could it be warped and weaponized so that more of the townspeople feared me? I picked my words carefully.
“It’s not you.” I’m sure I’d regret this. “It’s what you represent.”
Her eyebrow shot up. The woman who had first jumped at my presence now leaned in as if we were telling stories over coffee. Gladys didn’t say a word. I thought about spitting out scathing words. In a single statement, I could unleash decades of anger.
Deep breath.
“You don’t respect boundaries.” Her head cocked to the side as if it were the first time somebody had confronted her. “Nothing is private in this town. How did the entire town find out about what happened with Johnny?”
“I—”
“You told.” She didn’t understand. “That was between him and me. You didn’t have the right—”
“To care about the people who live in my town?”
“To gossip.”
Gladys’s expression went from aloof to serious in the blink of an eye. “If somebody threatened your mother…”
Would I want her to tell everybody? I’d want the people of Firefly to run them out of town with pitchforks and torches.
I hated to admit it, but Gladys turned me into a hypocrite with a single statement.
Like a petulant child, I wanted to whine that it was different.
I held my tongue, realizing that if the tables had been turned, I’d have wanted to know.
Did that change things? Or did it highlight that I was never one of the town’s inner circle?
“Sure, I might overshare,” she admitted.
“Might?”
“Fine.” She fidgeted with an oversized gold ring on her middle finger. Like everything else in the store, it must have been twice my age. “Fine, I talk too much. But if we didn’t, this town would go quiet as a morgue.”
“Gladys, it’s not the gossip, it’s the speculation. It’s suffocating.” I guess we were going to lay all our cards on the table. I had come in for an address, and it turned into a heart-to-heart. While I might be talking to a single woman, it felt as if my words were meant for all of Firefly.
“We speculate because we’re curious.” Her face scrunched up, making the many lines on her face darker. “You make it sound malicious.”
I wanted to argue, but I felt I’d be wasting my breath.
“Charlie.” She gestured at me. “Maybe you’d feel differently if you—” The fire in my stomach ignited as I prepared a scathing retort. “—weren’t so guarded.”
“I wouldn’t be so guarded if people stayed out of my business.”
“You act like we’re nosy. Maybe we are. But if you’d let us in, half this town would bend over backward for you.”
I wanted to growl, but not at Gladys herself.
We stood on opposite sides of the same coin.
We could go back and forth, but at best, we’d reach a truce.
There was no way I’d change the very nature of Firefly.
Though hearing her explanation softened the jaded view I’ve had since I arrived.
I suppose Seamus had learned how to be part of the town but not its focus.
“Can I have his address?” I’d revisit this conversation. Every second I stood here debating with Gladys gave me the opportunity to chicken out. “Please.”
The suspicion in her eyes vanished. “17 Front Street. Margaret’s old house.
The one with the roses from—” She froze.
Reaching to her lips, she turned an imaginary key, tossing it over her shoulder.
If I had been looking for a sign, Gladys not spilling every secret hadn’t been on the list. I’d consider it an act of God.
“Thank you.”
I reached the door before she spoke. “Charlie, you’re always welcome here.”
I gave her a slight nod before exiting and climbing into Pops’s truck.
It wasn’t her invitation to Firefly that worried me.
It’s that if what she said were true, if I had always been welcome here, then perhaps I had left before I was mature enough to see that.
Or that now, I let a memory of the town prevent me from taking that leap.
I’d dwell on it later, after I did the unthinkable.
My phone dinged.
Nick: I’m here if you need me.
I read the message again. It was one of those courteous things people said when they didn’t know how to help.
At the same time, it made this easier. I could hardly believe I had walked into Twice-Told Tales and asked Gladys for Johnny’s address.
But it wasn’t demanding information that had left me shaken.
Firefly would never be entirely free of guilt. Standing on the outside, I saw it differently from the people who grew up and never left. She forced me to question my feelings. Was I partially to blame? Had I isolated myself and expected people to come check on me?
These weren’t the emotions I anticipated tackling today.
Charlie: Thanks.
Charlie: I needed that.
I slid the key into the ignition and turned it until the truck roared to life. After today, I might need somebody to bring me a pie while I sip on hot cocoa. One more stop, and then I could go home and start coming up with answers. Yes, even the ones I didn’t like.
I had gone on autopilot as I drove through town.
With the window down, the warm breeze would have made it a pleasant drive.
Unfortunately, my brain ran through dozens of scenarios where this ended poorly.
With every turn, I considered going the other way and avoiding the responsible thing. Somehow, I reached Johnny’s driveway.
17 Front St.
The gravel crunched under my boots as I got out of the truck.
I didn’t slow. If I stopped and thought about it, I might convince myself this was a bad idea.
With every step, I fought off the image of Johnny’s younger self.
There was still time; I could get in the truck, and nobody would ever be the wiser.
No, I’m sure the neighbors had already seen me.
It’d be the topic on everybody’s mind at the next spaghetti dinner.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My hands remained fists. I slid them behind me, trying not to look threatening.
When that didn’t work, I shoved them in my pockets.
I expected the same fast reaction I had given him.
Would he come at me with a right or left hook?
Right. It had always been the right before.
I might have worked up the balls to come here, but I wouldn’t give him the chance.
I imagined grabbing his wrist like in the Kung Fu movies Sammy watched on repeat.
When the door opened, I didn’t have time to react to an infant being thrust against my chest. Tiny brown orbs blinked in confusion.
The cuteness faded at the smell of something foul enough it’d strip paint from the walls. He… She… It cooed at me.
“You’re not Fran.” Johnny’s eyes peered over three hairs on the baby’s otherwise bald head. “Here.” The child squealed in delight as I held its sides. Johnny vanished, leaving me more than a little perplexed. Was the kid a peace offering? A sacrifice? A stinky bundle of adorable?
“What is he feeding you?” I mumbled. This was the longest I had ever held a child. I never understood how parents could just hand over their kids. The more I breathed in, the more I’m surprised they didn’t do it more often.